


Spider Lily

by unrivaled_tapestry



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Aftermath of Torture, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arrested Hubert von Vestra, Assassination Attempt(s), Assumed Character Death, Doppelganger, F/F, Gen, I promise, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Prison, Responsibilities or love, Temporary Character Death, Those Who Slither in the Dark, Torture, Trials, impending character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:27:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28768563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrivaled_tapestry/pseuds/unrivaled_tapestry
Summary: After the war, Hubert carries on a war in the shadows as he courts Ferdinand von Aegir in the daylight.He believes he can balance the two until the day Edelgard returns from a tour of Fodlan. It becomes apparent that something is wrong, and Hubert must make a choice to protect those he cares for most, even if the price is his own life.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Spider Lily

**Author's Note:**

> Oh wow, sometimes you just circle back around to the same concepts over and over again, with slight variations. If you've read my other work, you'll probably notice some slight similarities or shared themes in this one.
> 
> A note that while I did not include the Major Character Death tag, a great deal of this fic is about things not being as they appear (including moments that look like major character death), and the dread of impending death. I promise it will all be okay in the end, but there are some heavy themes here like implied torture and characters sacrificing themselves for others.
> 
> Other ships that will appear as the fic goes on: Doropetra and Bylitza will be significant side pairings, and Claurenz will be hinted at.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter specifically include: prison visits, implied torture, and mention of impending character death. People who love each other wanting to protect one another and not being able to.

The dungeon blurred around Ferdinand. Sconces with yellow flames bled into aging brick, smoothing together the chasm that had held the Empire’s prisoners since the days when the first stones were laid at Garreg Mach. Over its thousand year history, it had hosted everyone from political rivals of the Hresvelgs to apostates awaiting their justice from the Church of Seiros. A few thieves. Traitors.

Murderers.

Ferdinand squared his jaw and did not pause when he reached the first checkpoint. If the guards struggled to recognize him in the low light, they quickly rectified their mistake and parted for the Prime Minister, scrambling to grab their clattering lances and remove them from his path. He did not slow his stride, did not look to them. He wondered if this is how his father had ruled the halls of the Imperial Palace for four decades, blowing past every underling with a crisp heel and a sneer as if he were the true emperor.

Let them think Ferdinand’s jaw bit back fury, because it did. Let them think that was fire in his eyes instead of burning tears. If it made them afraid of him, so be it. They didn’t need to know he had trouble speaking over his aching throat, for he’d fluffed his cravat to hide the bruises, or that there was only one man he desperately wanted to be afraid right then.

He passed the second checkpoint, but one guard swiveled towards him, stopped just short of reaching for his arm and snapped into a stiff salute instead as he stammered out some weak regulation.

“Sir, you need to—”

“Whatever it is, I do not.” Ferdinand forced away the crack in his voice. “As the acting master of the Imperial Household, I can go where I like and speak to any prisoner.”

The guard fell back into a salute. “Of course, my apologies.”

“If Bergliez gives you grief for it,” Ferdinand added flatly, “tell him he can take it up with the late Emperor.”

The collar of the guard’s shirt jumped slightly under his helmet. “...I’d rather not, sir.”

“Then he can take it up with me.” Ferdinand turned on his heels and continued deeper into the rotting guts of the palace, until the air stilled and grew thick with sweat, blood, and water. He first noticed a cell across the way, where a sheet of dried gore had leaked out from under the bars and started attracting flies.

Ferdinand tracked the stain and suppressed his own nausea at the stench. Was that where Linhardt had been held? Was Sothis punishing them all one by one for their transgressions?

Biting his lip, he turned his back to it and glared into the gloom of the opposite cell.

“I cannot believe you,” he spat out into the shadows for the benefit of one particular shade.

He waited for some time with his hands squeezed behind his back, listening for any sign of life save the ravenous insects and their scattered buzzing behind him.

He heard the clatter of chains before he saw Hubert draw himself into the light, what there was of it for his damp hair, sunken eyes, and torn shirt.

He also had an appropriately reproachful scowl. “Well, if it isn’t Enbarr’s great orator. Tell me, have you come to implicate yourself in treason a second time?”

“Better than Enbarr’s greatest fool.” Ferdinand took a step closer to the bars. “Why?” his voice cracked, ached along with the pain in his chest. “Hubert, _why_?”

“Surely you see how your affiliation with me puts you at risk? I saved you—”

“By dooming yourself.” Anger and energy filled his shoulders, made him want to storm off and storm right back in again, so he began pacing instead, his eyes swiveling back to his— “Hubert, they were listening. I would have won us more _time_.”

“You’d have won yourself a place on the block after me.” Hubert’s hands wrapped around the bars, and even through the inky stains of reason Ferdinand could make out dried, flaking blood under every fingernail.

“You don’t _know_ that—”

A snarl curled Hubert’s lip. “You thought your words would move them to pity? For me? This is Enbarr, Ferdinand. All they saw was a lamb bleating for the butcher’s mercy.”

Ferdinand shook his head. “It was a chance I was willing to take.”

“I wasn’t,” Hubert snapped. “I’d do what I did again and I’d do it a thousand times more.” His next breath came out in a rattle that turned into a low chuckle. “To keep you safe.”

“Stubborn man.” Ferdinand felt angry tears escaping and turned so he couldn’t be seen. “What of what _I_ want?”

Behind him, he heard chains clattering against the bars. “Ferdinand...please. My—” _love_ , Hubert might say, instead his voice staggers and catches “—my death cannot be yours.”

“ _Your_ death wouldn’t have to be yours if you had just _listened_.”

“Adrestia needs you.”

“I—” Ferdinand swiped at the damp streaks on his cheeks and whirled around, his fury drawing him to the bars of Hubert’s cell as he trapped one forsaken hand beneath his own and grasped the back of Hubert’s head with the other.

He kissed out his rage on Hubert’s mouth, as well as he could through cold iron and the bitterness clinging to clammy skin. He tasted blood, pressed his lips into the angry, untreated split crowning the bruise on the side of Hubert’s jaw. Air hissed out through his nose like a wild horse.

Hubert met Ferdinand with the calm of a fresh corpse, his lips still and unmoving under Ferdinand’s desperation. Could he taste the tears there? Ferdinand hoped so. Let the wretched man feel what he’d done with his own tongue—

Ferdinand broke away, the sides of his forehead pressing into the bars. His breath was raggedy, as though he’d just run across the length of Enbarr. Or attended a funeral.

There would be no funeral.

One Month Earlier

“Hubert, you shouldn’t have!” Ferdinand excitedly went for the box in white and light green, removing one riding glove and tugging at the red ribbon. His braided hair was caked with dust and pulled to the side. His cheeks had a ruddy glow as he grinned up at Hubert, shorter, helmet-torn locks of curl flared up around his brow like sparks in the sunlight. “You sent someone to get these? Surely you did not go yourself.”

“Ridiculous. I’d trust no one with such an important task.” Hubert smiled back. “I had some time today, and I wanted to catch you after your ride.”

Ribbon was scattered as Ferdinand opened the box and immediately selected a pastry.

It was hard for Hubert to imagine a time when seeing Ferdinand smile had not lifted his spirits, nor had he imagined living to a time when he would see his spirits lifted. That he could bring that smile to the surface—earn it—made it all the more special.

He glanced back up at the barn and caught sight of the young gray mare at just the moment she lifted her nose out of her stall, mouth full of hay that she chewed as though enraged with it.

Of course, no one could expect to compete with the horses, but as soon as Ferdinand left the stables, he belonged to Hubert.

Ferdinand was already halfway through the first teacake, loose sugar already dusting the corners of his lips. He wiped at his mouth with his sleeve, and Hubert didn’t have the heart to tell him he’d left a smear of dirt in its place.

“Please forgive my manners.” Ferdinand offered the box back to Hubert. “I was starving. I left my last meeting late and I wanted to go for a ride with Calliope before Edelgard’s return. We did hear that the retinue will be arriving on time?”

Hubert tentatively reached out to select a pastry for himself, nibbling at the crumbling edge as he and Ferdinand began their walk back to the palace proper, down a pathway shaded by oaks in their full emerald glory.

“A messenger bird arrived from the checkpoint in Hresvelg. She’s still expected to return on time.” Even as Hubert kept his voice confident, level, casual, he still swallowed a little unplaced nervousness with his bite of sugar and flour.

“That is good,” Ferdinand admitted. “I thought it was strange she did not take either of us with her, or at least wait for Byleth’s return from...wherever he is.”

“For the time being,” Hubert drawled, “it would likely be smartest not to have the Emperor and the Prime Minister travelling together.”

“I don’t disagree.” Ferdinand pursed his lips curiously, and his neat, reddish eyebrows knit together. “All is certainly not settled politically. But…” He trailed off.

Hubert watched Ferdinand as he trailed off, leaving only the sounds of their boots on gravel to fill the void. “But…?”

“She just removed Arundel from his position as regent—which is to be expected. That was always a temporary duty for wartime. However, she also declared an end to the Imperial line of succession without naming an heir.”

“As was her plan.” Hubert bit at the inside of his lip. As Ferdinand’s mind had turned away from the horrors of war to the realities of state, politics had replaced battle plans, and he’d only grown sharper.

“I am aware.” Ferdinand chewed over every word. “However, Arundel has always been sly. He’s no longer in line for the throne, which was a key tool used to sway the other noble houses during the Insurrection.” Ferdinand shook his head. “I’m worried he will not take kindly to having any chance at power ripped from his grasp. I merely…worry. Surely you understand.”

“Of course I do. It is difficult to sway her from a course of action that she has decided upon.” Hubert claimed another bite of his teacake to buy time. He let Ferdinand recite a history that Hubert had written on the white of his own bones, and felt a pang of guilt—another new companion.

House Vestra’s war had already begun, and the acid truth of that secret ate at Hubert’s mouth in a way none other ever had. Ferdinand knew there were enemy agents working terrible machinations within their new borders and that was enough to preserve his safety. It had to be. Hubert suspected he’d guessed at some of the rest of it—that the deaths of Edelgard’s siblings had been no accident, for instance, and he had witnessed her Crest of Flame in action, but the web had not yet been connected.

Anything further rendered him without value should the worst come to pass, or made him an irresistible target. Neither was an acceptable outcome.

“Well, I will feel better once she is back in Enbarr,” Ferdinand announced.

They approached the end of the walkway, and Hubert caught Ferdinand casting his eyes about to check for passersby.

Ferdinand...had been another unexpected development.

Hubert watched as Ferdinand’s steps slowed, as he turned, craning his head over Hubert’s shoulder to look behind them.

In answer, Hubert paused, and Ferdinand closed the distance between them until their chests were pressed together. Hubert had become practiced at bowing his head, waiting for Ferdinand to tilt his chin up and press their mouths together. Ferdinand did not disappoint, and Hubert instinctively wrapped his hand behind Ferdinand’s back, held him close enough and tight enough that he could feel the workings of Ferdinand’s bones under his outstretched palm.

Such a display of affection in public was unwise, but whenever Hubert felt that cold trill down his spine—the shivering realization that with every kiss he risked giving his enemies something precious to use against him—Ferdinand warmed it away. Already the rumor mill in Enbarr had knit an elaborate story trying to predict when either the Prime Minister or the Minister of the Imperial Household could be expected to propose to the other. If the entirety of the Mittelfrank Opera had guessed, Arundel and his pack certainly already knew.

Ferdinand broke away after a kiss so brief it was nearly chaste, and Hubert felt a matching heat spreading across his own cheeks.

“I should freshen up before the retinue arrives.” He licked his lips, reached out to flick at Hubert’s collar. “You know, that _is_ my only responsibility at present.”

Embarrassingly, even with Ferdinand’s honeyed tone, it took Hubert a second to process his meaning. When he did, it sent a flush down the back of his neck.

Deftly, Hubert plucked Ferdinand’s fingers from his collar and planted a reverent kiss to his knuckles. “I don’t see why—”

“Minister Vestra!” A voice echoed across the open space, coming somewhere from the other side of the hedge.

Ferdinand let out a reluctant sigh and pulled away, though he let his fingers linger for a second in Hubert’s palm. Hubert fought a wave of irritation, stifled it by pinning his hands together near the small of his back.

They separated just in time for a page in imperial crimson to come sprinting down the walkway. “Minister Vestra!”

After letting out a carefully contained breath, Hubert squared to meet the boy. “What is it? Speak quickly.”

The page looked puzzled over his red cheeks and deep breaths. “I was sent to find you. You were to be informed the moment the Emperor has arrived?”

“Her Majesty is here, now?”

The page nodded quickly. “Her carriage is just arriving through the gates.”

“She’s early, then?” Ferdinand noted quizzically, more to Hubert than to the messenger. “Almost three hours.”

Hubert nodded at the boy. “Thank you for informing me. I shall be there to greet her.” He swiveled to Ferdinand, and he disliked how unable to control the softening of his voice he was, but it was easily passed off as a whisper. “Go ahead and change. She will doubtlessly be understanding. Besides, I must discuss her trip with her.”

“I...very well.” Ferdinand looked down at his messy clothes in frustration before a smile again found its way onto his face. “We are at the whims of honor’s demands, I suppose. I will join you both for dinner, however.”

Offering a slight bend to his shoulders and a hand over his heart, Hubert replied, “I would have it no other way.”

As Ferdiand walked off in the direction of his rooms, Hubert’s mood darkened, his tongue worked habitually against the sharpest of his teeth.

Three hours early, from the Hresvelg border to Enbarr?

Curious. Not impossible, but curious.

Perhaps word along the way had been sluggish, he thought. It wasn’t unheard of, though that was more likely than Edelgard running every horse in the caravan to lather.

Hubert swept off to go greet Her Majesty.


End file.
